


Dance With Me

by owlbsurfinbird



Category: Lewis - Fandom
Genre: 80s Music, Community: lewis_challenge, Dancing, International Fanworks Day 2015, M/M, drinking and flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-10 03:40:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3275318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlbsurfinbird/pseuds/owlbsurfinbird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Robbie can moonwalk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dance With Me

X O X O X O X O X O

Years Ago...

"Tragic," Morse sniffed. A woman's body was slumped along the floor, blood splattered on the wall indicating where her head had hit and then slid down. The room pounded with the sound of Michael Jackson's hit, "Beat It." "Lewis!"

"Sir? SOCO's asking—"

"Yes, get them in here. And what's that racket?"

Robbie considered for a moment, as it might have a bearing on the case, and then raised his eyebrows. "I think it's Michael Jackson."

"I want it off. The marrow in my bones is curdling."

"This was his _Thriller_ album." Robbie supplied helpfully. "Where he's dancing around in the cemetery? Big with the kids a few years back. Think it has something to do with this?"

"No." Morse turned to him, face pained. "Find the off switch."

Robbie shrugged it off. He nearly ran into Laura coming around the corner.

"I can moonwalk," he said to her, apropos of nothing.

She frowned. "I'll alert the media, then."

"No, really. Kids taught me. _Thriller._ "

She huffed a sigh. "Is there a body, sergeant?"

He pointed back to the doorway she had already passed.

Laura Hobson gave him a look and moonwalked back down the hall.

"Lewis!" Morse shouted from the other room.

"Tell him I'm looking for the off-switch." Robbie gave her a grin. "Were you a rocker, back in the day?"

"You'll never know." She gave him a saucy smile, her eyes twinkling. "You'd have to dance with me, Robbie."

X O X O X O X O X O

Years Later...

"I can moonwalk." Robbie stared at the full moon high in the sky above them. They were sitting on the swing in Laura's garden listening to the music from her birthday party.

James took the bottle away from him.

"No, I can."

James hefted the bottle, took a drink. "Don't recall seeing your name on a roster of astronauts."

"Hear that? She's got Michael Jackson going in there."

"So? She's was a teen in the 80s. Heard Devo earlier. Can see her in a black leather jacket."

"She has one."

"I know—that's why I can see her wearing one." James settled back, gazing at the stars. " 'Trust your heart if the seas catch fire, live by love though the stars walk backward.' " The lights of a large car swept across them as it rumbled into a parking spot along the street. "Someone's overcompensating. No one needs a car that size," he noted with a soft burp. "I may actually be too drunk to dance." He set the bottle on the ground beside the swing.

Robbie hoisted himself from the swing, setting it into a crazy motion, back and forth. He reached out and stilled it with his hand.

James closed his eyes. "Cheers. Unpleasant surprise coming up if you hadn't stopped the world from spinning."

"No," Robbie shook James' shoulder. "Look. I'm gonna moonwalk."

"You want _Thriller_ —" James said.

Robbie was moonwalking across the grass, his feet doing that odd fluid motion until the music changed.

"No, no, no." James' speech was slurred. "Goes like this. 'Beat It.' From the video."

"Didn't see the video. Bit past my time."

James leaned into him. "C'mon." He ducked his head, and looked up then through his lashes, wistful and sweet. "C'mon, Robbie. Dance with me."

"Christ." Robbie shook his head, the steadying himself. James had a glint in his eye, no doubt about that. _Like a bit of spark, like fire to too-dry tinder, that._ He seemed emboldened by Robbie's uncertainty. He stood in front of Robbie and slid his hands along Robbie's arms till he reached the wrists. Then in a fast motion, James pulled Robbie's arms up, taut, pinning them behind his head.

They were nose to nose.

"Like this. Yeah." James drew the word out. His breath was hot against Robbie's cheek, his body nearly--but not quite—touching. "Bring your hands together behind your head." James guided Robbie's elbows into position, splayed open.

"Hip out. Really push it, sir."

"Sir?" Robbie's voice was arch and a little harder than it needed to be.

_Christ, everything was a little harder than it needed to be._

James' hands pulled at the pocket of Robbie's jeans. He gave Robbie a goofy grin. Happy, silly with drink. "Not Sir, then. You can be Notsir."

"'Robbie.' James, call me 'Robbie' when you're doing that." Robbie's chest was tight, could barely take a breath, afraid he'd wake up from this dream of long-fingered hands posing his body, positioning his hips, sliding along his waist, cresting just across his front pocket beneath his belt.

"Loosen up."

"Any more loose and I'll be in a puddle."

James eyes were half mast, speculative. His lips full were full, a sexy half-smile. "I think I'd like a Robbie puddle."

Robbie loved watching that mouth form his name; it was like a kiss. He leaned forward, hesitated.

James was staring at his mouth, waiting.

The song was insistent. "Beat it."

"Dance with me, Robbie." James took a deep drag of his cigarette and flicked it dramatically away into the garden before throwing his shoulders back.

Robbie listened to the music, suddenly remembering seeing the video when his kids were young. He thrust out his hip following James' lead, punching the air above his head. Playing air guitar, extending his leg and tapping his foot.

He watched as James jerked and thrust out his hip in a harsh, twitchy, sexual motion.

"Slower," Robbie said. "Um. Do it slower."

James complied. "Better?"

Robbie nodded, mouth dry.

"Slower?"

Robbie shook his head. "No," he whispered. "Slow it down too much and it doesn't…"

James slowed the motion further. "Is this good?" He moved closer, eyeing Robbie, teasing.

Robbie sighed and raised his eyebrows. He wondered where that bottle had got to—needed a drink.

James wore a knowing half-grin. He went over to the swing, picked up the bottle. Took a drink, upending the bottle against full lips. He licked his lips wickedly and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, hanging his head for a moment before flinging his head back and throwing his arms wide…

…as he accidentally let go of the bottle.

The two men watched helplessly as the bottle sailed through the air, silhouetted against a full moon, spinning round and round like the label on a record album, coming down hard on the roof of the huge car parked along the street before bouncing onto the bonnet and shattering in the street.

The car's alarm went off.

James's eyes and mouth were saucers. He looked over the low fence, hands fluttering to indicate that the only thing damaged was the bottle.Then he was giggling helplessly as Robbie—more used to this sort of thing being a Newcastle lad—tried to pull him out of Laura's back garden to get them away from the sounds of neighbors and party guests spilling outside to investigate.

The car alarm shut off with a double beep. The voice of DI Peterson rose loud and aggrieved over the commotion: "Who the fuck threw that bottle onto my car?"

"Him?!" Robbie and James were plastered rigid against the fence, making faces at each other, grinning like loons, trying not to laugh as Peterson huffed and puffed and threatened.

That's when James and Robbie heard sirens, but instead of the police stopping at the party, they went across the street. 

"Let's go see," said Robbie. "Might need our assistance."

"And you don't want Hobson to find out where that bottle came from."

"That too."

+++

At work the next morning Robbie found a bottle on his desk. It was wrapped with a bow and a note: "Thanks for saving me from Peterson." Robbie sighed. _Glad I saved you, lass. Wish James hadn't thrown that damn bottle, though. Things were starting to get interesting._

He looked up as James came in. "From Laura. Peterson was being a nuisance."

"Fancy that." James came up and put his hand on Robbie's shoulder. "I think that bottle is asking to be opened."

"Are you asking…"

James' voice was low and soft as he said, "Dance with me, Robbie."

X O X O X O X O X O

A Few Years Later...

"Is there a reason to have this awful song at your wedding, Dad? I thought we were celebrating."

"First song James and I danced to."

"This?" Lyn made a face.

Laura came up. "Made an impact at my birthday, too, as I recall."

"Really?"

A tiny smile flickered across James' mouth. "I was showing your dad some dance moves."

"James. My dad's a great dancer. He can even moonwalk. Show him, dad."

"Pet, it may be Michael Jackson, but this is not the kind of thing you can moonwalk to."

"Just show him."

Robbie, James, and Laura all lined up and moonwalked backward in perfectly choreographed movements.

Lyn laughed. "So you can all do it. Is this part of police training? What kind of moves were you showing him, James, or do I want to know?"

"Air guitar, actually. And then I accidentally threw a bottle at Peterson's car." He said, ducking his head, embarrassed. "It didn't do any damage."

"Peterson was making a nuisance of himself and I was about to throw him out when he heard that alarm go off." Laura explained to Lyn. "Lucky break."

"It was, for me." Robbie said fondly. "Got to finish what we started that night." He pulled James to his side.

"Oh, no," said Lyn, taking her dad's hand and pulling him to the dance floor. "James gets you 99% of the time now." Her eyes shone as she gazed fondly at her father. "It's my turn, Dad. Dance with me."

**Author's Note:**

> James quotes e.e. cummings.


End file.
